


Victorian/Jack the Ripper AU

by All_The_Monsters



Series: 16 Glenya Requests [3]
Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Jack the Ripper - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 05:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_The_Monsters/pseuds/All_The_Monsters
Summary: Request: Victorian/Jack the Ripper AU"Lovely night for a stroll, don't you think?"The man was so close Anya could feel his breath on her neck, sending goose flesh down her spine in all the wrong ways, and making the fine hair on her arms stand on end. Anya tried to run, but the man had her in his strong grip and a hand over her mouth before she could even scream.





	Victorian/Jack the Ripper AU

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of the requested prompt the character may seem a little oc.

Anya looked around wildly as the sound of scuffling footsteps echoed somewhere back behind her. Someone was watching her... she could feel their eyes boring into her, akin to the eyes of the heavenly Father on the day of judgement, sorting her sins from her graces.

Pulling her threadbare shall closer around her shoulders for warmth and what little protection the thin cloth could offer, Anya continued carefully down the alley way.

Mentally she berated herself for choosing this "shortcut", and not for the first time that night her imagination ran wild with thoughts of what could be lurking in the darkness of the alley.

There was a psychopath on the loose, a cold blooded killer. Jack the Ripper, they called him, Anya thought.  Every person in Whitechapel who left their houses each and every morning morbidly wondered if they'd be the one to find the next victim, another Lady of the Night, presumably.

"What an endearing term for prostitute. Tell me what I am, don't make it sound so regal." Anya muttered as she picked her way around a garbage can. 

Looking up she could see the end of the alley not even ten feet away, soon she'd be out of this godforsaken crevice between buildings and all the closer to home, if you could call it that. One must be truly desperate to call the underside of the London Bridge home. 

Just as Anya was about to step out into the glow of the street lights a rustle of fabric alerted her to the presence of someone behind her, only once she'd turned around there was no one there. 

Anya's eyes flitted nervously around the dark alley searching for the source of the noise. Something moved and caught her eye to the left and Anya startled at a cat jumped out of the shadows and hissed at her before slinking off around the corner. 

Still breathing hard Anya began to turn back to the street when a voice from directly behind her made her blood run cold. 

"Lovely night for a stroll, don't you think?" 

The man was so close Anya could feel his breath on her neck, sending goose flesh down her spine in all the wrong ways, and making the fine hair on her arms stand on end. Anya tried to run, but the man had her in his strong grip and a hand over her mouth before she could even scream. 

Anya struggled against her captor's grip to no avail as she was dragged backwards into the dark alley. She wasn thrown against a brick wall and pressed against it, his hand still clasped over her mouth and eyes staring directly into her's. 

His eyes were cold and dark, so brown they were nearly black, and for a second Anya swear that she saw the reflections of hell's fire. 

Her heart beat thunderously in her chest and her eyes stung as she couldn't help but shake in fear. There was no doubt in her, she was going to die. 

In a flash the hand covering her mouth was gone and instead had a fine blade pressed beneath her right ear. 

Fear tightened around her chest and Anya barely noticed when the word "please" slipped out her mouth in her native tongue. 

"Pozhaluysta." The word came out shaky and uneven, but fluent none the less. 

This seemed the stop the man. Now he looked at her, really looked at her, and Anya knew her time of judgement had come. 

"London is no place for a good and loyal Russian." He spoke at long last, his Russian just as clean and fluent, betraying his true nationality. 

"And yet here we both are." Anya dared whisper, fear lacing her voice.

The pressure on the blade increased and Anya squeaked as she felt the small drop of blood run down the length of her throat. 

"Ty sobirayesh'sya menya ubit'?" (Are you going to kill me?) Anya asked without hesitation, though shakily. His next words chilled her to the bone.

"Skoreye vsego, no poka ya dovolen razgovorom. What's your name?" (Most definitely, but for now I'm content to talk.) 

Anya swallowed before answering and asking a question of her own. "Anya. And what's yours?" 

The man chuckled darkly before responding. "It would hardly do for you to be knowledgeable of your killer's name." 

"If you're truly planning to kill me, what does it matter? The dead have a funny way of being able to keep even the most rotten secret." Anya said. 

The man seemed to ponder this for a second before letting out a snort and smirking. "It would seem you are correct, you can call me Gleb." As soon as the knife was on her throat is was gone and the man, Gleb, stepped back gesturing for her to sit on a nearby crate. As Anya tentatively sat down on the crate Gleb took a seat on  another crate a few feet of her's before continuing. "I do think there is time to get to know one another, now tell me Anya, how did you come to be so far from home?" 

"I left." Anya said, "I hopped on a train to France and finally made it here." 

"Why did you leave?" The man, Gleb, asked. 

"Why did you?" Anya countered. 

"I had my reasons." Gleb said. 

"So did I, besides you've ask two questions, my turn." Anya said quickly. Gleb inclined his head at her, inviting her to ask away "Why are you doing this, killing people." 

Anya shuddered at the dark smile that pulled at Gleb's lips. "Because I like it. I have complete control over whether you live or die, and you are powerless to stop me. As long as I have this knife, I'm the Tsar. My turn to ask a question now." Gleb gestured at her with the hand that still held the medical blade, reveling in the way Anya flinched back. "How did you come to be a, what is it you call them? A Lady of the Night?" 

"Don't decorate it, I'm a prostitute." Anya snapped.  "And times are tough. No one wants to hire a young woman with an accent so impossibly thick you can barely understand her. Not to mention I came here with nothing but the clothes on my back and was turned away at everything with the exception of street sweeping." 

"I knew I'd seen you somewhere before." Gleb muttered. "You were the street sweeper by the corner of Osborn and Hanbury street." 

Anya suddenly recognized Gleb as well. He'd kindly helped her after a backfiring truck had startled her, causing her to loose her footing and rather embarrassingly trip over her own broom. Gleb had been the one to stop and help her up before hand her back her broom with a smile before continuing to his way without a word. Anya shivered to think of the monster lurking behind the gentle and kind  visage.

"Are you a doctor? Or medically trained? That's what the papers say." Anya asked glancing down nervously at the scalpel still clutched in his hand.

"Nyet. All I have is a steady hand and good memory." Gleb spoke, but his time when he looked at her it was softer the ever before, the kind smile from the day he'd helped her was back and Anya almost found herself smiling back. 

Looking up at the sky and the stars above above them Gleb spoke once more. "Aren't they beautiful?" 

Anya couldn't help but follow Gleb's gaze upwards towards the heavens. "They are." Anya agreed. 

Looking back down she could see he was checking the time on his pocket watch. When he looked back up at her all the tenderness in his features had left completely once more 

"It seems we've lingered long enough." He spoke at long last, his eye glinting in the moonlight. Anya stocked in a breath at these words.

As Gleb made to move Anya scrambled up and tried to run but soon found herself backed into the corner of a small alcove. She could fight the tears as Gleb was on her once more, the knife pressed against her throat. 

"Don't cry. It'll be over soon." Gleb whispered sweetly. "You know," Gleb trailed a hand over her jaw, "I really like you, Anya. I can't promise it'll be painless, but I'll endeavor to make this as quick as possible." His hand brushed over her forehead pushing away the hair that had fallen out of her bun. 

The hand not holding the knife was on her cheek again, cupping it in the mock embrace and tenderness of a lover. Anya closed her eyes as Gleb's mouth landed of hers and allowed herself to surrender to the kiss, telling herself she deserved this last comfort life would offer, even if it was from her soon-to-be-murderer. If she hadn't known he was going to kill her, she would've fallen in love with him then and there. His mouth was sweet and tender against her own, and the kiss was by far the best she'd had. 

As Gleb pulled away from the kiss Anya opened her eyes to find herself staring straight into his own dark orbs. Something in her clicked then. This would be the last sight thing she'd ever see. 

She didn't even have time to flinch as a white hot burning sensation tore across her throat.

Gleb caught her as she slumped forward, gently lowering her to the ground. 

Anya couldn't talk, she couldn't scream, she couldn't breathe. 

Anya tried a few feeble times to draw breath, but only succeeded and in short gasps, like a fish pulled from the Neva. Then the darkness surrounded her, and she knew no more. 

Gleb watched, crouched above her, as Anya desperately tried to fill her body's need to oxygen. She gave a few stuttered gasps as her body twitched below him before she went limp, her head rolling to the side and her eyes vacant. 

"Dos svidaniya, Anya." Gleb whispered, brushing a reddish gold strand of hair back from Anya's face, her life blood still wet his hands. 

It truly was a shame, Gleb supposed, that she had to die. But in due time everyone would, sooner or later. It did not do well to dwell on such thoughts. Besides, there were things he need to collect, Gleb thought as he turned his attention to making sure the whomever found the body knew he'd been there. It was time for Jack the Ripper to leave his signature on his art.

**Author's Note:**

> Send in your requests to allthemonsters02@gmail.com using 'Glenya Request' in the subject box. Please leave any questions, comments, concerns, and or interpretive dances in the comment section below.


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